


b-sides

by staunchly_anonymous



Series: the mixtapes [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Religion, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 12,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staunchly_anonymous/pseuds/staunchly_anonymous
Summary: tracks left on the cutting room floorcompiled bits from tumblr + cut scenes that didn't make it elsewhere





	1. your smile isn't as bright as it used to be

Kent turned in his seat just a little, watching Jack for a moment. He was just… staring out the bus window, watching rain slide down the glass.

“Hey,” Kent said, softly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said. He sounded far away again.

Kent bit his lower lip. Jack was always upset when they lost. It seemed like it was worse now than it was when they met. 

But Jack didn’t like it when Kent tried to make him feel better. Not usually, anyway. And Kent knew that he was probably at fault for their losing, so he couldn’t blame Jack for not wanting to talk to him.

Back at the hotel, Jack took a shower first. Kent sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. When it was his turn, he showered fast. When he returned to the room, Jack was already in bed. Kent hesitated for just a minute before sliding in next to him, curling an arm around his waist.

Jack’s shoulders were tight.

“Jack,” Kent murmured. He didn’t get an answer, so he settled for just pressing his forehead to the back of Jack’s neck. Jack’s breathing slowed down, settled into a deep rhythm that usually meant sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Kent whispered. “I know you’re worried about the draft. You keep saying you’re fine, but your smile isn’t as bright as it used to be.” He closed his eyes. “You’re doing great. You’re gonna go first. It’s – it’s gonna be perfect.”

 


	2. post-breakup kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nov 2012

It was a stupid idea. He knew that. He  _knew_  it. It was just – he couldn’t leave things how they were, couldn’t just keep relying on text messages and phone calls to try and fix things. He had to  _see_  Jack. And yeah, going to Samwell after he’d won his first Cup, riding that emotional high and thinking that just because  _one thing_  had finally gone right it might mean that something else would, too? That was probably never going to work.

But he’d tried, anyway.

It was a college party, just like he'd expected. Honestly, it reminded him a little of parties they went to back in the Q, and it surprised him that Jack would still be interested in things like that. They left a sour taste in Kent's mouth now, after everything. He'd expected the bros and the fraternity-ness of it all, the alcohol everywhere and the boisterous atmosphere.

He _hadn’t_ expected the expression on Jack’s face once he saw him – or, rather, Kent thought that some part of Jack would be happy to see him, even if the rest of him was angry. And once they were alone, in a room where moonlight sank into the planes of Jack’s face and Kent remembered how beautiful he’d always been, he forgot that nothing in Jack was happy. They were close to each other, the door shut behind them. He could smell Jack’s soap.

It smelled the same. Leaning forward, Kent pressed a gentle kiss to Jack’s face, on the swell of the bone beside his right eye.  "I miss you,” Kent said, voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t,” said Jack.


	3. kids

“Put this one here,” said Julianna, handing Jeff a puzzle piece and pointing. He was ‘helping’ her put together a pony puzzle – and by ‘helping’ what he really meant was ‘taking direction without comment because Juli was bossy’.

Jeff slotted it into place. “Here? Like this?”

“Good job,” Julianna said, patting his back with one small hand.

Jeff glanced over to the sofa where Kent sat, baby Oliver snuggled up against his chest. He was watching  _Finding Nemo_ , gently rocking Oliver from time to time. His hair was a bit of a mess and he was squinting, even with his glasses.

He needed to get his eyes checked.

“Uncle  _Jeff_ ,” said Julianna, tugging at Jeff’s sleeve.

“Sorry, pipsqueak,” Jeff said, turning back to her immediately. “What’s up?”

“I’m hungry,” she said.

“Okay,” said Jeff. “What d’you wanna eat?”

“Chicken nugget.” She always wanted chicken nuggets. 

Jeff got up, heading for the kitchen. “Kent,” he said, ruffling Kent’s hair as he walked by the couch. “You want chicken nugget?”

“Sure,” Kent said. He shifted Oliver a bit, cradling him close. Honestly, Kent could hold that baby for hours. It was – something Jeff didn’t want to think about too much, because it made him feel all shivery inside. “You need help?”

“Nah,” said Jeff. “I have Iron Chef Julianna here to help me out.”

“I’m gonna judge your plates,” Kent said, tilting his head back to look up at Jeff. “Extra points for presentation.”

“I’m gonna win!” Julianna shoved past Jeff.


	4. it brings out your eyes

“Is that really the tie you’re wearing?” Kent asked. He was tying a fancy knot in his own sage green tie, not even looking as he did it. 

He looked perfect, like usual.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jeff asked, looking down. The tie was fine, right? It was a plain blue one. 

“Nothing,” Kent said, “it’s just boring as fuck.”

“Shut up,” said Jeff. 

“We’re buying you new stuff,” Kent said, “when we get home.”

And that was how they’d ended up in some fancy store Jeff couldn’t even remember the name of, looking at suits that cost way, way,  _way_  more money than seemed necessary. Even for a millionaire. 

Kent looked at the deep blue suit he’d had Jeff put on, chewing his lower lip. “Oh,” he said, after a moment, “I know. Hang on.”

Jeff blinked. Before he knew what was happening, Kent was back. He looped a bronze tie around Jeff’s neck, pulling on it a little. “This will be perfect,” he said. “It brings out your eyes.” He was standing close enough that Jeff could smell his cologne. Kent tilted his head to the side just a little and tied a knot in the necktie for Jeff. “There. Look.”

Jeff turned toward the mirror again. Honestly, he looked good. Really good. “Thank you,” Jeff said.

“Yeah,” said Kent, stepping back a little. “Don’t mention it.”


	5. losing my religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2010; goes with [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10555832/chapters/24690549)

Kent was doing it again.

He was doing it again and he  _knew_  it, and the worst part about it was that he couldn’t stop. His vision went red when Jeff limped back to the dressing room, and he honestly couldn’t have explained how he’d ended up in a fight if he tried.

It was completely unprofessional. Kent should’ve known better, been a better example for his team. He didn’t deserve that A on his jersey.

Jeff was just so… warm. Warm, nice, funny, hot – and he was just always there when Kent needed him. He was a great teammate and a good friend, and he was so  _smart._  He was nothing like Jack at all.

Except, of course, for the fact that Jeff went through fuckbuddies like some of their teammates went through socks and Kent hadn’t had sex in  _two years_. It was nothing to Jeff to see three different women in as many nights, and he never seemed to miss them. They certainly never spent the night. And that was fine, it really was, except for the fact that Jeff was so blatant about it and every time it happened, all Kent could think about was the fact that those women were to Jeff what Kent was to Jack.

Shoving his fist into the wall, Kent hissed. The hot water stung his eyes, and he ground his teeth together in frustration.

“Get it together, Parson,” he muttered. 

On one hand, having a crush on a straight guy was probably the safest thing Kent could do. He’d never tell him and nothing would ever happen. Even if Jeff  _were_  interested in guys, nothing would ever  **happen**. And that thought – it would keep Kent from doing something… stupid.

Except that it hadn’t, and he’d completely lost his mind there for a minute. Letting out a slow breath, Kent went back to washing the shampoo out of his hair. He would get this under control. He had to. He didn’t want to do this again, to be like this, to hurt like that.

Two days later, once they were home, Kent went to confession. The church was cool and quiet, and once he’d sat alone in a pew for a while, Kent gathered the courage to talk to the priest.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Kent said, voice soft. “My last confession was three months ago.” He paused.

It was awful every time, this part. Kent hated it. His voice always came out in a whisper. “I’m gay.”

 


	6. you might like this

Honestly, Jeff knew nothing about skincare. He had never once thought about it, being the kind of guy who just washed his face with bar soap in the shower and called it good.

Kent, on the other hand,  _had_  thought about skincare. At least, he’d thought about it enough to moisturize his face and to use a separate soap, both things that Jeff didn’t really understand the need for. To be fair, Kent’s face was amazing. Jeff didn’t think that the moisturizer was responsible for that, though. Kent caught him eyeing the container in the hotel two nights ago, and now that they had some down time, he seemed to be on a mission to get Jeff’s face moisturized. 

They were standing in a Sephora. Jeff had maybe never been in a Sephora. There were rows upon rows of creams and lotions and washes and that didn’t even  _count_  the makeup, which they had both ignored.

“Um,” he said.

“You might like this,” Kent said, turning around. He was holding a dark blue pump bottle. “It’s lotion and sunscreen put together. You’ll just have to put on one thing. And it prevents skin cancer.”

“Why does it cost  _forty-eight dollars_?” Jeff asked, staring at the bottle. 

“I can’t explain that,” Kent said. “But you’ll thank me later when your face quits itching.”

“Fine,” Jeff said, taking the bottle. “Whatever.”


	7. epikegster

“Right,” Kent murmured, looking down at the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. He needed… he needed to calm the fuck down.

Eric hadn’t told him not to come. He’d paid for delivery confirmation, he  _knew_  the envelope had arrived. That meant – Kent swallowed. He was doing this. It was going to be fine.

Probably.

Maybe.

Stepping out of the car, Kent took a minute to run his hand through his hair before putting his cap back on. He locked the doors and pocketed the keys, turning away from the car. He didn’t recall feeling  _this_  nervous the last time he’d shown up at Samwell.

Walking into the Haus, Kent had to smile – his cocky, media smile, of course, the one that slid easily onto his face no matter how he was feeling. Everything looked, well, the same as before. Glancing through into the kitchen, he smiled. 

Almost everything.

He turned around, catching sight of a familiar head of blond hair.  _Eric_. He was standing in the hallway, a bright smile on his face as he listened to someone talking. Kent took a step closer. That  _smile_. He was even more perfect in person, his eyes the warmest version of brown Kent had ever seen. Even the light in the hallway looked more golden around Eric’s head. He was soft and sweet and… adoring? Kent followed Eric’s line of sight and felt his stomach drop through the floor.

It was Jack. 

Of course it was Jack. It was Jack and he was  _smiling_  and  _laughing_  and he was as beautiful as ever, and Kent couldn’t even be angry with Eric for adoring him because who wouldn’t adore Jack Zimmermann? He bit his lower lip, not wincing when his teeth pushed down too hard and it hurt.

 _You’re too slow, Kenny_. Jack used to say that all the time.  _You’re not trying hard enough._

It was always true.

 


	8. here, drink this

Kent set a glass on Jeff’s bedside table, probably not  _trying_  to make so much noise. “Here,” he said, and his voice was very soft. 

Jeff hunched his shoulders a little. His head was  _killing_  him. “What is it?” he asked. He sounded a bit hoarse, even to his own ears. The room was absolutely  _frigid_ , the air cranked down all the way. Every single light was off, and the sliver of light from the cracked doorway made him wince.

Fuck, his head hurt.

“Drink this,” Kent said, nudging the glass. “You’ll feel better. It’s just water.” He sat gently on Jeff’s mattress, the bed dipping under his weight.

“Nnngh.” Jeff rolled over enough to sit up and take the cup, draining it quickly. The water was cold, tasted good. He shut his eyes again.

Kent had never dealt with one of Jeff’s migraines before. He hadn’t really had very many since college, so he’d sort of thought they were gone. When he’d felt that familiar tingling on the left side of his face during practice, he’d known what was coming.

He’d thrown up as soon as he got home, anyway. 

“Yeah,” Kent said. He paused. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s fine,” Jeff said. He grit his teeth.

“You want ice for your head? Or – or I, um. I can press on your head where it hurts? I read that helps with migraines, sometimes,” Kent said. He was only trying to help. He was being intensely sweet, actually, and Jeff reached out for his wrist, curling his fingers around it. The soft beat of Kent’s pulse was comforting.

“You can try it,” he said. “Temples.”

Kent pulled his hand away from Jeff’s grasp, shifting on the bed so he was close enough to place cool fingers against Jeff’s temples. The pressure was gentle, not much at all, but as they sat there for a minute, the throbbing pain in his temples let up just a bit. Jeff sighed.

“It is working?” Kent asked, after a long stretch of silence. The sound made Jeff wince.

“Ssshhhh,” Jeff said. “Stay. Just – don’t talk, yeah?”

 


	9. señor bun

Oh, no. Eric left his rabbit. He would be  _so upset_  – he never slept without that rabbit, not ever. Kent couldn’t let him leave without it.

Grabbing the stuffed animal, Kent went for the stairs as fast as he could – which might have been a mistake, considering that as soon as he got to the top stair he felt nauseated again. “Eric! You forgot–” Reaching the front door, he thrust Señor Bun at Eric and hoped his face didn’t look too green. “He was in the bed.”

“Oh,” Eric said, looking down at Kent’s hands. He bit his lower lip for a moment before pushing Señor Bun away. “No. Here. He’ll keep you company.”

Kent’s throat felt tight. Was he – was he leaving his rabbit? With Kent? “Oh, Eric,” Kent said softly, “I can’t – I can’t keep  _Señor Bun_.” How would Eric sleep without him? He  _loved_  that rabbit. Kent’s eyes were burning and he knew that, pathetic as it was, he was going to start crying any minute.

He didn’t want Eric to leave.

He didn’t want Eric to leave, but he couldn’t ask him to stay, and Eric knew it. That’s why he was leaving Señor Bun, because he knew Kent was a wreck and something as silly as a stuffed animal would make him feel better. It was, Kent knew, ridiculous that Eric had come out to Las Vegas as it was. Kent didn’t want to take up too much of his time or make him worry. He shouldn’t be  _making_  him worry. Eric had enough to worry about – he was busy, and he had his friends and his grades. And the longer they stood there, the more Kent wished that he could just… be normal.

A normal person wouldn’t need so much.

“You can give him back to me in July, baby,” Eric said, voice gentle, “when you come for your birthday. Okay?” 

His birthday. Kent pulled in a shivering breath. Right, of course. His hands tightened around the toy’s soft fabric.

Eric leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Kent’s mouth. His thumb stroked down Kent’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Okay,” Kent said, his hand curving gently around the back of Bitty’s neck, trying to memorize the feel of him before he was gone. “Okay.”

He watched them drive away, Eric and Jack, the rabbit crushed to his chest.

 


	10. madison

Kent stared at the house. It was, honestly, everything he’d imagined – there was even a porch swing. It was soft and Southern and warm. 

Like Eric.

Eric was convinced his parents would love Kent, and to some extent, Kent believed him. As long as he said the right things and wasn’t too gay, he was sure, Eric’s parents would love him. He wanted them to love him, to think he was nice, to – to, at the very least, not mind his company.

Kent supposed it wasn’t very important, whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t like they thought  _Eric_  was gay. They didn’t know they were dating, wouldn’t think of Kent as Eric’s boyfriend. He could just… pretend it was like an interview, so it would be fine.

Right?

“You coming?”

Kent jerked a little, looking back at Eric. Those shorts hugged his ass  _just_  enough, and he already had the beginning of a summer tan on his legs. He was gorgeous and Kent loved him, everything about him.  _Please let them like me, lord Jesus_. “Yeah,” he said, shifting the weight of his bag and joining him on the stairs. “Yeah.”

The soft pressure of fingers on his back brought a soft smile to his face. Eric was so good.

They stepped inside and were greeted by a sunny smile that matched Eric’s exactly. “Kent Parson!” 

Mr. Bittle stood to Mrs. Bittle’s right.

“Hello, sir,” Kent said, shaking Mr. Bittle’s hand immediately, making sure his grip was strong. “Ma’am.” He smiled at Mrs. Bittle, using his warmest smile. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“Goodness,” she said, “so polite. Welcome to our home! What are – Dicky, why do you have groceries?”

“Kent said I had to, Mama,” Eric said, already walking away with the bags. “Apparently he’s gonna eat his weight in eggs. I told him you’d be offended but he just insisted on having his way, so here we are.”

“I eat a lot,” Kent said, trying to explain. He hadn’t wanted to stick the Bittles with a ridiculous grocery bill on his account. He just – he had to put weight on! 

Mr. Bittle tried to cover a laugh, and Kent felt some of the tension in his stomach ease.

This would be fine. As long as he made sure to be Kent the Hockey Player, it would be fine.

 


	11. i had a bad day again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dissociation in this bit.

It wasn't a good day. Some days just... weren't.

Kent was a huddle on the sofa, curled up in the corner beneath a fluffy blanket and two cats. He’d been there since his post-run shower, eyes blank and unfocused behind his glasses. Leaning his head against one hand, he stared at the television, but he definitely wasn't watching it because he hated The Today Show. He hadn’t eaten.

He was like that, sometimes. Bitty hadn't managed to figure out why it happened, but in the end he wasn't sure it mattered. It was just something to get through.

“Honey,” Bitty said, sitting on the edge of the sofa. 

Kent didn’t move. 

Reaching out, Bitty curled his fingers around Kent’s hand. Kent’s gaze flicked over to him and he turned his head like he’d only just realized Bitty was there. He uncurled a little, bringing his other hand down into his lap. “Hey, you,” he murmured.

“Hi, baby,” Bitty said, grasping both of Kent’s hands. Brian was teaching Bitty to work on mindfulness with Kent when he’s like that – Bitty’s few sessions with him have helped. It’s been good for both of them. Bringing their combined hands up, he brushed gentle lips across Kent’s knuckle. “Let’s drink a glass of water, okay?” he said. Something simple to focus on, something physical. Nothing too complicated.

"Okay," Kent said.

 


	12. stay

“Are you gonna stay?” Eric said. They were sprawled on the sofa, waiting for Kent to come back from therapy. They’d been hanging out all afternoon, and Jeff had suggested Indian food for dinner.

“What?” Jeff lifted his head off the back of the sofa. Eric was looking at his phone.

“Tonight,” he said. “Are you gonna stay over?”

Jeff blinked. “I never said I was gonna stay,” he said, pushing himself up on one hand. 

Eric looked up. “I know,” he said. “But you normally do, don’t you?” He set his phone down.

“I --”

“It’s fine,” Eric added. “Seriously. I just -- I just thought you might be leaving because of me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He was right. Jeff did kind of live there, and he had been leaving because Eric was in town. And honestly, as Kent’s boyfriend, Eric had every right to ask him not to stay over. He was probably -- it was probably weird. Jeff didn’t have the right to live with Kent, to want to stay with him, to keep things in his house and lay claim to part of his life. Jeff looked down at his hands. “I have an apartment,” he said, even though Eric knew that. He’d been there. “I was going to leave after dinner.”

Eric swallowed. “Stay,” he said, after a minute. “It’s -- you’d just come back in the morning, anyway, and I -- I like it when you’re here. And I know he likes you to be here.”

 _He likes you to be here_.


	13. original sinsuality -- 2010

Kent had new freckles on his shoulders.

Kent had new freckles on his shoulders and Jeff  _ noticed _ , glancing over at him as they stripped after practice, sweaty and sore. Kent’s sandy blond hair curled with sweat at the nape of his neck, and when he bent to remove a skate, Jeff looked away. 

He was still thinking about them when he got home, as he cooked dinner, while he took a shower. The shower in particular… was a problem.

It was pathetic, probably, fantasizing about his best friend. Jeff swallowed, dropping his head back onto his pillow. It wasn’t his fault Kent had new freckles. And it wasn’t like he was noticing on purpose, either. It just sort of… happened. 

Fuck it. It wasn’t like anyone would know.

He slid his hand into his shorts, closing his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around his cock.

_ “Tell me what you want.” Kent gripped the back of the sofa, grinding down onto Jeff’s lap. _

_ Jeff tightened his hands on Kent’s ass. “You,” he said. “Just you. Always you.” _

_ Kent laughed, bent his head to catch Jeff’s mouth with his again. _

Jeff twisted his wrist. Fuck. 


	14. bury it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spring 2011

Watching Jeff leave the locker room, Kent lets out a sigh of relief.

He can’t do this. Rubbing his face, he leans forward, hunching his shoulders.  _God_. It’s been, what? A year? A year and a half? 

A year and a half, he realizes, since he arrived in Las Vegas. It feels like forever and no time at all, all at once. He’s still dreaming about Jack and trying his phone and, even though Jack never answers, Kent can’t just… give up. It’s pathetic, he knows that, but it doesn’t make a difference.

Kent can’t repeat his past -- he knows that, too. Jeffrey Troy is smart and funny and  _gorgeous_  and really, really nice. He loves kids and he’s great at hockey, but he doesn’t care that much about being the best. He’s fun to be around and listens to people when they talk, wants to be a teacher when he retires. He’s basically the nicest person Kent’s ever met in his life.

And Kent  _cannot_  be in love with him. He just – can’t. It’s the worst thing, falling in love with a teammate. Even if Jeff liked him back, then what? They get together and Jeff figures out, after however long, what Kent is really like? That he’s too selfish and volatile to be worth all the trouble?

The thing is that Kent knows he isn’t good enough for Jeffrey Troy. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone who would be. And Jeff deserves better than to be stuck trying to make things work with someone like Kent. 

Tightening his fingers in his hair, Kent takes a deep breath, the kind that shivers when it comes back out. Get over it. He’s gotta get over it. It’s just a crush, it’s nothing, he won’t take it on the ice, it’ll be –

Fine. It’ll be fine.


	15. dreams come true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2010

It was hard to believe they’d won the Stanley Cup so early in their careers. Shit, Jeff had really never thought he’d be good enough to be on a winning team, period, much less his rookie season. But he  _was_  and they  _had_  and it was  _perfect_. 

Nobody had expected Las Vegas to make a real run for it. That was how things worked -- you only got the first draft pick if you were a shit team, and everybody knew it. Jeff thought they'd be rebuilding for a while, but it turned out that they'd sort of found a winning combination right off the bat. It was incredible. Surreal.

All around him, everyone was screaming and laughing, hugging and slapping shoulders. It didn't seem like  _anyone_ quite believed it just yet, even though they'd hoisted the fricking Cup. There was sticky champagne all over the place. The night still felt young and he’d had way, way more to drink than was probably reasonable –

And looking at Kent, Jeff had the feeling that the both of them might be fighting over who got the puke in the toilet later. Kent barely ever drank, he had some kind of weird hangup about alcohol and Jeff knew too many people who'd had their lives ruined by drinking, so he'd never once pressed for details. After winning the Stanley Cup, though, he didn't think anyone could get out of drinking. It was a fucking right of passage. And Kent and Jeff would, most assuredly, not be the only ones sick from it.

Still, it was great. It was amazing. It was –

“I wish this moment could last forever,” Jeff said, laughing as Christopher drank champagne out of the Cup.

“Yeah,” Kent said, but his voice was small. Jeff turned to look at him, saw Kent staring down at his phone. It looked like whoever he’d tried to call hadn’t answered.

 


	16. chocolate cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2012

“Your birthday is July fourth, right?” Jeff asked, dumping things for his normal smoothie into the blender.

“Yeah,” said Kent, still trying to decide between blueberries and blackberries.

“Cool,” said Jeff. He pushed the button and the blender came to life. Humming, Jeff grabbed a glass out of the cabinet.

Kent put the blackberries back into the fridge and shut the door. “Why?” he asked, once Jeff shut the blender off again.

“Oh, uh --” Jeff poured the smoothie into the glass, trying not to spill it all over the counter. “No reason. Just curious.” He flashed Kent a grin.

Kent frowned.

That was the end of the conversation, Kent frowning and Jeff drinking his smoothie and trying to figure out the best way to celebrate Kent’s birthday in Calgary. It was a given that Kent would come up -- of course he would, and he’d likely be relieved about it if last summer was any indication. Maybe they could go camping again?

Well, no. Jeff’s mom would want to make a cake for him, especially since it seemed like Kent’s mother wasn’t a very good cook. They hadn’t done anything for his birthday last summer, mostly because Jeff forgot about it in the flurry of activity that was Stampede and Kent coming into town. This year, though, he had no excuse. He ought to plan something.

Kent was not cooperating. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t already be coming to Calgary, anyway, so what was the big deal? They just wanted to have a _birthday_ _party_ for him. It wasn’t a bad thing.

Was it?

“I just don’t really like my birthday,” Kent said, when Jeff asked him about cake a week later, “that’s all. Forget it, man.”

“Mom’s not gonna accept that and you know it,” Jeff said. He’d been given a mission.

Kent sighed. “Just -- fine,” he said, “fine. Tell her chocolate. Whatever.”


	17. elia & michael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spring 2007 / summer 2007

“Hey,” the guy says, and Jeff grins at him. He’s seen him around at a couple of parties, noticed his curly hair and the bright way his teeth flash against dark skin when he smiles. He’s hot, in that pink shorts and navy plaid LAX bro way.

“Hey,” Jeff says. They’re both holding solo cups, chilling in the kitchen of the house the party’s in. It’s loud and busy.

“It’s Jeff, right?” the guy asks.

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “What’s your name?”

“Michael,” he says, grinning. 

They end up on somebody’s bed, Jeff’s not sure whose. Michael’s a good kisser; Jeff likes the way he’s using his teeth, how hard he’s pulling Jeff’s hair. He’s muscular and hard, a bit of scratchy stubble on his face. It’s – hot. Really hot. 

And then Michael murmurs something in Jeff’s ear about fucking him until he screams, and… Jeff’s not quite ready for that. It’s not that the idea isn’t exciting. He’s just… not there.

“How fucking dare you?” Jeff says it with a joking tone, but pushes Michael away a little, and he grins.

“No?” he leans forward, pressing a hot kiss just under Jeff’s ear. “Okay, pretty boy. Want me to blow you, then?”

Ah, fuck. He wants to say yes. But – “I’m good like this,” Jeff says, “if you are.”

Michael looks a little disappointed, but he lets Jeff drag him back down again, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Jeff has known Elia his whole life, it feels like. She’s the same age he is, basically, and they went to school together. Her family knows his family. She loves hockey, she’s really funny, and she is a really good dancer.

The first time Jeff hooked up with Elia, they were both just fourteen and curious. The second time, they were sixteen and bored – at least, Jeff was. After that, it sort of became this thing Jeff did when he came back into town. Go to the diner, see if Elia’s working, make plans to see her after. No big deal.

It’s friends with benefits. It’s a totally normal situation, especially now, when he lives in Boston and she still lives back home. Jeff is busy with hockey and Elia is busy with… whatever her life is made of, he’s not sure. He hasn’t ever asked.

He doesn’t  _really_  care. She’s the only person he’s gone back to bed with, but it’s not important. It’s just something fun to do. Hell, they’re only twenty. Nothing is real at age twenty. Right?

It happens the second summer he’s home. Jeff had a soda at the diner and Elia took him back to her crappy apartment when she got off. They ordered Chinese takeout and Jeff made sure –  _sure_  – that she came twice before he fucked her. It’s the nice thing to do, and she’d blushed so hard when he’d said ‘ _I can eat_ ’ that it was basically mandatory.

After, when they’re sprawled out in her bed, she runs fingers down his arm. It’s hot, summertime, their skin still sticky with cooling sweat as the old, creaky ceiling fan runs above them. Jeff stares up at it, just breathing, feeling wrung out. She says something he doesn’t catch so he turns his head to look at her.

“I want to be more than friends, Jeff,” she says, eyes soft in the lamp light, hair wild. Elia is pretty. She always has been.

But Jeff doesn’t feel anything for her.

“Elia…” Jeff pushes up onto one elbow. “I don’t –”

“I know you’re busy,” she says, “and I know you’ll go back to school. And we could do, like. Some kind of open thing, mile radius, y’know?” Her smile is hopeful and sweet and Jeff really, really likes her better when she’s making fun of him or fighting with his sister or sucking his dick. He doesn’t want… whatever this is, whatever’s happened to her.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this any more,” Jeff says.

 


	18. talk to me

“Oh my god,” said Dagny, “what is your  _deal_?” Jeff was too quiet, the way he got every summer when Kent went back to Vegas without him. It was so stupid and obvious – anyone could see it, she didn’t know why he didn’t just come out and say it.

“I dunno,” said Jeff, after a minute.

“Please talk to me,” Dagny said. “I’m so sick of watching you pine over Kent. What happened?” She paused. “Or are we still doing that stupid pretend you’re not in love with him thing?”

“I –” Jeff paused for a minute. “Eric called me,” he said. 

“Um, okay,” said Dagny. Eric was Kent’s boyfriend.

Well. She tended to think of him as Kent’s  _other_  boyfriend, but that wasn’t super important. 

“He said he wants me to talk to Kent,” Jeff said.

“About what?”

“About, like. About my, um. This. The whole thing.”

Dagny blinked. “The… whole thing,” she repeated, slowly.

“He thinks that we could – I could – that Kent would date me, too, or something,” said Jeff.

“Oh my  _god!”_ Dagny let out a small shriek. “How did it go? What did Kent  _say_? Tell me everything! Oh my god, was he so happy? I bet he was so hap–”

“I didn’t do it, yet,” Jeff said, voice sounding kind of small.

He  _what_? Why not? He’d been in love with Kent for years! “W– why not?” Dagny asked.

“It’s stupid,” Jeff muttered.

“Why not?” Dagny repeated.

He snapped at her when he answered, irritated and nervous. “Because I’m scared, okay?” 

Dagny couldn’t help it – she laughed. Only for a moment, but it happened. “I’m sorry,” she said, “Jeffrey. I’m sorry. But you can’t – you can’t be serious.”

“I’m hanging up,” Jeff said.

“D –” the line clicked dead before she could get the word out, before she could say anything else. Dagny stared at her phone in shock. Jeff had  _never_  hung up on her like that before. Not ever.

Well, fuck.

 


	19. it's not gonna work out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably mid 2015

The way it usually happens is Jeff meets some girl who usually notices how tall he is and recognizes him, and then he chats with her a while and they end up leaving together. Kent’s seen it a million times if he’s seen it once.

But Jeff isn’t leaving with the girl he’s been talking to. She’s his normal type, of course – thin, blonde, conventionally pretty. Looks like she could be a Victoria’s Secret model, maybe. It’s weird when Kent notices it, the way Jeff leans away from her just a little, pulling back from her touch. He comes back to Kent’s table a bit later, beer in hand, taking a seat while Kent stares at him a little.

“Really?” asks Tremblay, after a minute. “Dude, she’s hot.”

“She is pretty,” Kent says, when he gets a  _right?!_  sort of glance that means he’s supposed to say something.

“She doesn't like dogs,” Jeff says, hunching his shoulders a little. “It wasn’t going to work out.”

“Okay,” says Kent, because he doesn’t really care if Jeff doesn’t get laid that night, even if the excuse is the flimsiest he's ever heard. Jeff doesn't care if the girls he fucks like dogs. He's never looking for, like. Love. So what does it matter?

“Oh my god,” says Tremblay. “Right, man. You’re fuckin’ crazy. Losing it in your old age, man.”

Jeff just shrugs one shoulder. "Get off my lawn," he says, and Kent laughs, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

They spend their night watching  _The X Files_ , falling asleep on Kent's sofa after he calls Eric.


	20. how do you say i love you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one comes before the last one, chronologically.

Honestly, this would have been so much easier if he  _hadn’t_  listened to Eric and instead just went on his merry way, living a perfectly ignorant life. Ignorance was supposed to be bliss. He was  _sure_  he’d read that somewhere.

Rubbing at his hair with his towel, Kent sighed a little. So, like, okay. He could just confess like… like a normal person. Right? Not that Kent knew a whole lot about that, but he’d watched his share of romantic comedies. He was just supposed to have a deep conversation with Jeff and be all  _I love you_  and then everything would be… well, however it would be. Maybe fine. Probably a disaster.

He tugged his shirt on over his head, running his fingers through his hair once he’d poked it through the collar. Fuck, he didn’t want to do this. Except, like, he  _needed_  to do it, and he wanted – it needed to be better. Better than it was with Jack.

Jeff deserved better, was better. Kent chewed his lower lip for a moment, wandering into his bedroom to throw himself down onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. After a moment, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Putting it up to his ear, he waited through a couple of rings.

“Hello?”

Oh, boy. Okay. “Hi, um. Mrs. Troy?”

“Yes, Kent,” she said. It sounded like she was in the middle of doing the dishes. “This is a surprise. Is everything all right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Kent said, pressing a hand to his face even though she couldn’t see how red he was. “I just, um. I wanted to ask you something?”

“Must be important,” she said.

“Kind of,” said Kent. “I, um. Well – can you, um.” He took a breath. She waited on the other end of the line, quiet. “How do say I love you in Stoney?” he asked, finally, the words coming out in a rush.

She didn’t say anything for a long while, and Kent chewed his lip, stomach sinking. Ah, fuck. Maybe he should –

“Is this for Jeffrey?” she asked.

Kent couldn’t lie to her. He swallowed. “Yes,” he said, after a minute. 

She told him, then, speaking slowly and having him say it back. He promised to call her back and practice before he said anything to Jeff, promised he’d get it right. And once he hung up, Kent rolled over, smooshing his face into his pillow. God, it wasn’t even that long ago that he was twenty and horrified, swearing not to get involved with Jeff Troy, telling himself over and over that nothing could happen and watching him bring home girl after girl. It wasn’t even that long ago and it was forever, all at once, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“So much for not getting involved,” Kent muttered. He was so fucking screwed.


	21. why does anyone have to be naked?

They were just kissing, like always, because all they’d ever  _done_  was kissing, crowded onto Jeff’s couch or Kent’s couch or wherever. Not a bedroom, that was for sure. The newest territory they’d gotten to was getting shirts off, and like – Jeff wasn’t mad about it, but he wasn’t content, either. So this time, when they’d gotten shirts off and Kent was basically in Jeff’s lap, he reached for the zipper of Kent’s jeans.

And, like, okay. Jeff was not an expert in being told no when it came to sex – after all, he’d always had very willing partners for his one night stands, it was never ambiguous or a big deal. But he was pretty sure that Kent’s shoulders wouldn’t be quite so rigid if he was like, into it, and he’d frozen immediately, hands tight on Jeff’s hair. Jeff paused, hand still on the fly of Kent’s jeans. “You okay?” he asked, leaning back enough to be able to see Kent’s face.

“It’s not – I just –” Kent swallowed. His lips were red, swollen a little, and his hair was a wreck from Jeff’s hands. “Why does anyone have to be naked?” he asked.

“Oh,” said Jeff, pulling his hand off Kent’s zipper entirely. Did Kent not want to be naked? Like, with him specifically? Because he was definitely – he and Eric were definitely naked together. A lot. “Um, nobody has to be naked, if you don’t want,” he said, because there was no other response for something like that, nothing else to say. He slid his hand back under Kent’s thigh, just resting it there, barely holding onto him.

“Sorry,” Kent said, and Jeff shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m – it’s okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Kent’s mouth. “It’s okay.”


	22. how not to do things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt was: “That was a perfect example of how not to do things.”

“You should tell her,” Kent said, whisking the cake batter while Dagny sliced cherries.

“It took you and Jeff literally like six years to get together,” said Dagny, “so you don’t get to lecture me about what I should do with a crush, Parse.”

“Okay,” said Kent, “so… that was a perfect example of how  _not_  to do things.” He set the bowl aside. “Seriously. I wish I would’ve said something a long time ago.”

“Would you have met Eric, then?” she asked, dumping the cherries in the batter.

“That’s a fair point,” said Kent, “and I’m not sure I appreciate all this from a high schooler.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Dagny said. Grabbing the bowl, she stirred the chopped cherries around. “Get a pan out. Mom’ll be home soon.”


	23. hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: 117 “Can I do your hair?” for our boy Jeff Troy and his boy Kent Parson. For the prompt ask please. Maybe after he’d had let his hair get a little longer?

 

Pausing in the doorway, Kent chewed his lower lip for a minute.

“Yes?” asked Jeff, fingers busy with his tie. He tossed his head a little, sent a bit of damp hair flying. It was really getting long, now, long enough to need  _doing_  for something like the NHL awards. Last time he was home Dagny gave him some sort of… something to put in it, he just wasn’t sure what he’d done with the stuff.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to  _do_ , either. Running a hand over it, he sighed a little. Could he just like, leave it down? It’d look fine, right? When he looked up in the mirror, Kent hadn’t moved. Jeff turned to look at him. “What is it, man?”

“Um,” said Kent, “can I do your hair?”

“Yeah,” said Jeff instantly, relief flooding his stomach. Kent would know what to do with it. He always looked nice. “Just – whatever, I don’t care. It’s still wet.”

“That’s okay,” Kent said. “Sit.”

Jeff sat. He closed his eyes when Kent touched his hair, scraped nails along his scalp as he gathered it all up. Maybe Jeff could just fall asleep and take a long nap instead of going to the awards. He didn’t, like. Hate them. It was just that a nap sounded  _so much better_. 

 


	24. am i drunk or

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: 8. “Okay, am I drunk or did you really just say that?” with Jeff and Jack?

 

“He’s right,” Jack said, and Jeff’s eyes went wide onscreen. Jack and Bitty were just finishing up Skyping and watching a documentary with Kent and Jeff. 

“Okay, am I drunk, or did you really just say that?” Jeff asked. He looked down at the beer in his hand, frowned, then shook his head. He set the bottle off to the side.

“What?” Jack looked at Bitty for clarification, then back to the laptop screen.

“That I’m right,” said Jeff, looking back up. “Did you just say I’m  _right_?” He paused. “I mean, I am. I just –”

“Yes,” said Jack.

“During a conversation about World War Two,” said Jeff.

“Yes,” Jack said, again.

Jeff let out a breath. “I forgot what else I was gonna say,” he admitted.

“Not prepared for it not to be a fight?” Kent teased.

“It’s not  _that_  surprising,” said Jack, and both Bitty and Kent choked on a laugh at the same time. “… What?”

 


	25. fuck you, ikea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: With Jeff and his sister or Kevin please? 17: “Is this supposed to be this hard?”

 

Staring at the diagram in front of them, Shylen tucked a thick strand of hair back behind one ear, frowning. “Is this supposed to be this hard?” she asked.

“You’re the engineer,” said Jeff, “you tell me!” He swore a little, fussing with the pieces of the Ikea bookshelf. Getting it all to fit together was becoming kind of a struggle, and Shylen wasn’t even  _helping._ God. How had he gotten roped into this, exactly? “Why did you buy a new bookshelf, anyway? Why not just bring the one from home?” Jeff hadn’t bought new furniture for his dorm room in Boston! His parents hadn’t even  _suggested_  it.

To be fair, he’d moved to a whole new country for university, and he was there playing hockey, so – but still. Damn, Shylen. Way to pick the most stupid, most complicated Ikea bullshit they had. He was about to start swearing again when a joint snapped into place, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Just, like, eighteen more to go.

“Oh!” she said, a moment later, looking up from her laptop. “We can have someone come build it for us!”

Jeff dropped the piece he was holding. “Are you fucking for real right now?”

Shylen laughed.

“I hate you so much,” Jeff said.

 


	26. superb, you funky little lesbian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: Dialogue prompts #6, ”The hills are alive, with the sound of bullshit.” -- Jeff to... the person of your choice!

 

“What’re you doing tomorrow?” Jeff asks, because he’s going back to Vegas soon, and he won’t be home for a while. They’re laid out on his bed, window open, like that means their parents wouldn’t notice that they’re totally high. Nobody cares, anyway, it’s just the principle of the thing. “We could, like. Go ride around at Vinny’s, or something.”

“I can’t,” Dagny says, and Jeff pushes up onto one elbow to stare at her, incredulous.

“Why the fuck not?” he asks, because it’s  _summer_  and she’s not fucking  _busy_  and he knows it.

“I promised Victoria I’d help her,” Dagny says, not looking at him.

“Oh my god,” says Jeff, “you’re ditching me for your girlfriend? For real?”

“I’m not!” Dagny protests. “It’s not like that! We’re just friends!” Her face is red. “I’m just helping her study!”

“The hills are alive,” Jeff says in a sing-song tone, “with the sound of bullshit.”

"Shut up! She’s doing summer classes!” Dagny’s blushing, and Jeff grins. It’s tempting to ruffle her hair, but Dagny’s 17 now, and she spends so much time on that hair, she’d hate him for ruining it. She’s got a whole look going on.

She’s growing up.

“All right, all right.” Jeff flops back down, stares up at his ceiling. “We can chill later. After your _study_  date.”

They don’t say anything else for a bit, both of them just breathing and existing in Jeff’s childhood room, full of sports awards and music and some of his old clothes. “I’m gonna miss you,” Dagny says after a minute, voice wavering and quiet. Jeff snags her with an arm, tugs her in close.

“Me too,” he says. 

 


	27. i really really really don't like you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” with Jeff and Jack?

 

It wasn’t that Jeff didn’t like Jack.

Well, okay. That was a lie. Jeff  _didn’t_  like Jack and he knew it made Eric uncomfortable so he tried, he really did, to be nice to him when he was around. On camera. Whatever. But he hadn’t really been given much time to prepare for Jack visiting after the game and, considering the Aces’ loss to the Falconers, he wasn’t really in the mood to indulge it.

Right now, Jack and Kent and Eric were all in the living room, and Jeff wanted to go to bed so badly he could hardly stand it – but he didn’t want to go back to his apartment, so he figured he’d just… ask if they were about done. Right? Jeff had tried to be a part of their conversation here and there, but he was tired! It was exhausting! He couldn’t follow it that well because he just wanted to go to bed!

“Are you guys about done?” he asked, just as Jack started saying something else about who knew what. “’Cause it’s getting pretty late, and –”

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god,” Jack snapped.

Jeff just sort of – stared, for a minute. “So help me god, what?” he asked. “You gonna fight me, Zimmermann? Seriously?”

Eric rubbed his face. “Jeff…”

“Jack,” said Kent, “lay off.”

 


	28. please talk to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: “Please talk to me” with Jeff and Dagny!

“Oh my god,” said Dagny, “what is your  _deal_?” Jeff was too quiet, the way he got every summer when Kent went back to Vegas without him. It was so stupid and obvious – anyone could see it, she didn’t know why he didn’t just come out and say it.

“I dunno,” said Jeff, after a minute.

“Please talk to me,” Dagny said. “I’m so sick of watching you pine over Kent. What happened?” She paused. “Or are we still doing that stupid pretend you’re not in love with him thing?”

“I –” Jeff paused for a minute. “Eric called me,” he said. 

“Um, okay,” said Dagny. Eric was Kent’s boyfriend.

Well. She tended to think of him as Kent’s  _other_  boyfriend, but that wasn’t super important. 

“He said he wants me to talk to Kent,” Jeff said.

“About what?”

“About, like. About my, um. This. The whole thing.”

Dagny blinked. “The… whole thing,” she repeated, slowly.

“He thinks that we could – I could – that Kent would date me, too, or something,” said Jeff.

“Oh my  _god!”_ Dagny let out a small shriek. “How did it go? What did Kent  _say_? Tell me everything! Oh my god, was he so happy? I bet he was so hap–”

“I didn’t do it, yet,” Jeff said, voice sounding kind of small.

He  _what_? Why not? He’d been in love with Kent for years! “W– why not?” Dagny asked.

“It’s stupid,” Jeff muttered.

“Why not?” Dagny repeated.

He snapped at her when he answered, irritated and nervous. “Because I’m scared, okay?” 

Dagny couldn’t help it – she laughed. Only for a moment, but it happened. “I’m sorry,” she said, “Jeffrey. I’m sorry. But you can’t – you can’t be serious.”

“I’m hanging up,” Jeff said.

“D –” the line clicked dead before she could get the word out, before she could say anything else. Dagny stared at her phone in shock. Jeff had  _never_  hung up on her like that before. Not ever.

Well, fuck.

 


	29. homophobia lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: “I’m sorry….did i make this weird?” with the aces.

“It’s just like, a team barbecue or something,” Kent says, “you don’t have to come.”

“Well, I know that,” says Bitty. He pauses. “Do you not want me to come?”

“It’s not that,” Kent says. “It’s not like that. I just thought – after last time, at the club and everything, I thought that you wouldn’t want to.”

That was fair, Bitty can admit. The club was awful and he can’t imagine sitting through another conversation with a well-meaning teammate who is actually just being really offensive. But he can’t throw Kent to the wolves. He’s had to give so many interviews, lately, and he had to march in the Pride parade, too, even though it was obvious that he really,  _really_  had not wanted to.

“I’m coming,” Bitty decides. “I’ll make something.”

That’s how he ends up with a lemon ice box pie, standing next to Kent as Coach Scott welcomes them to the barbecue. They’re just running through greetings with random people when Bitty hears it. The woman he’s talking to hears it, too, judging by her blush.

“Looks like Parse brought his…  _friend_.” 

Bitty can’t tell who it is, but Kent obviously heard it, too, and he can. His shoulders tense as he turns a little, looking for the speaker. They end up in front of Carlson, because of course they do.

“Carly,” Kent says. “Is there a problem?”

Carlson glances at Bitty, then back to Kent. “Sorry,” he says, “did I make this weird?”

Kent’s teeth are clenched just a bit.

“Hi, Eric!” It’s Ian ‘I-don’t-mind’-that-you’re-gay’ Tremblay. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

 


	30. i will punch you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: “Step away before I punch you in the face.” Jack? Jeff? Both?

 

Troy hates him. He’s known that for a while – it’s not exactly subtle, when they’re watching TV on a Skype call with Kent and Bitty. But he didn’t realize how  _sincere_  it was, and he doesn’t really understand  _why_.

Kent hasn’t talked to Troy about Jack. He’s sure of that, because Kent has hardly talked to  _Bittle_  about Jack, and Kent tells Bitty everything in a way that not even Jack ever experienced. Whatever it is, it makes playing Vegas an absolute nightmare, because Troy is not afraid to go to the box for hitting Jack – and he’s really,  _really_  good at legal checks that are pretty painful.

Still, that’s on the ice, and Jack didn’t realize it would carry over. When Troy asks what he’s doing on Kent’s doorstep, it’s a bit of a shock.

“I’m here to see Kent and Bitty,” he says.

Troy raises an eyebrow. 

“On invitation,” Jack says.

“Who asked you?” Troy’s leaning on the doorframe, taking up all the space. “Eric?” It’s clear from his tone of voice that he doesn’t approve, that he hasn’t forgotten the last time Jack came to Kent’s house for Kent and Bittle, both.

Jack takes a breath. He doesn’t want to fight with Troy. Bittle adores him. “It’s not like that,” he says. 

“Kind of feels like it’s always like that, with you,” Troy says, and Jack just can’t take it. He doesn’t want to fight, not really, not with Troy – especially when it’s so obvious that Bittle adores him, that he’s going to be around forever and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. That doesn’t stop it from slipping out, though, like a chirp on the ice, a tiny verbal barb that he wishes he could take back as soon as it leaves his mouth.

“Jealous?”

“Step away before I punch you in the face,” Troy hisses, and Jack takes a step back on instinct.

 


	31. it's okay baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: #17 of the Angst prompts for Kent :D
> 
> I think it's the "they can't hurt you any more" line.

 

Kent was dreaming again, the sound of it pulling Bitty out of sleep. He shuddered in the bed next to Bitty before sitting up and hunching his shoulders, shoving the covers away.

Bitty glanced at the clock: three AM. Pushing up onto one elbow, he reached out to brush gentle fingers against Kent’s arm. “It’s okay, honey,” he said.

Kent dragged in a gasping breath, bringing both hands up to his face. 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Bitty murmured. “They can’t hurt you anymore. It was only a dream.”

“They,” Kent said, voice rough.

“The things you’re dreaming about,” said Bitty, because he didn’t know how else to say it. Kent didn’t dream about Jack, not really, not the person Jack was now. He touched the tips of his fingers to Kent’s hair. “Let’s take some breaths, honey, okay?” 

 


	32. hating the world vs. my house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompts in the body

2 or 41 with Jeff and Kent?

* * *

_2\. “You’re too young to hate the world.”_

Kent stares out at the skyline and Jeff hates him for a minute, hates the way that nothing makes him happy. They’re on a winning streak and it’s almost Christmas. What’s not to be happy about?

Kent is hardly ever happy, Jeff thinks. He’s happy when he’s holding a baby. He’s happy on the ice, most of the time. But that’s – that’s about it. It’s probably not worth asking, but…

“You wanna come out with us?” Jeff asks.

Kent shakes his head.

“You know,” says Jeff, after a minute of silence, because Kent is what, 19? “You’re too young to hate the world. You oughta lighten up a little.”

“Have fun,” Kent says.

_41\. “What are you doing in my house?”_

Turning the key in the lock, Jeff sighed. He shoved the door open and stepped in, kicking his shoes off. He dropped his keys on the table by the front door before heading into the living room.

Kent looked up at him, face sickly in the dim light from the television. “What are you doing in my house?” he asked.

“Checking on you,” Jeff said, flipping on the light. And then, “I have a key.” Having a key is like having permission to come over whenever, in Jeff’s opinion. 

“What for? I’m fine,” Kent said, squinting against the now golden light in the room.

He wasn’t, though. He hadn’t been fine since that party he went to at Samwell – and Jeff knew that was where he went, because he saw the pictures on Twitter. He had no idea what happened because Kent didn’t want to talk about it, but Kent was far from fine.

He broke his point streak. He was fucking  _robotic_  in interviews, which was about as far from normal as it could get with him. And Jeff knew that coming out had been probably the worst night of Kent’s life, but it was – it couldn’t just go on like that. It’d kill him.

Whoever that guy was, the one who was not and apparently had never been Kent’s boyfriend? He didn’t deserve him.

“I’m not leaving,” Jeff said. “So we can make dinner or you can pick a movie.”

Kent bit his lower lip. “Dinner,” he said, after a minute, because he wasn’t stupid. He knew he was getting too skinny.

“Macaroni and cheese it is,” said Jeff.

 


	33. hitting back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: How about Jeff and Kent, #39: “You’re an idiot. I’ve met smarter sandwiches.”

They disagreed about why they lost. 

Heavily. And Kent wasn’t listening to a single  _fucking_  thing Jeff said, hadn’t been for days. Their current argument was the same one, still going, and Jeff was tired.

“You’re an idiot. I’ve met smarter sandwiches.” Kent slapped the light on the bathroom wall, shutting it off. He made sure to prop the door open before getting into bed.

He’d been bitchy the  _entire_  roadie, and Jeff was frankly getting sick of it. “Oh, yeah? Like the peanut butter ones you throw away every game day?” Jeff asked, tone like acid.

Kent flinched, and Jeff frowned. What  _was_  it with those particular sandwiches?

“Sorry,” he muttered, a moment later.

“Me, too,” Kent said. When Jeff twisted in bed to look over at him, he was just staring at the ceiling. 

 


	34. quiet vs anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: Jack, C Bitty, X
> 
> C. A moment’s respite. X. A flash of anger.

 

His alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and Bittle’s got his arm thrown across Jack’s stomach, face smushed down by his ribcage because Bittle loves to burrow into covers. The light peeking through the curtains is the pale silver of early morning. Jack looks up at the ceiling, takes a breath.

Playoffs are stressful. They were stressful in college too, but it’s different, now. He isn’t sure he’s handling it well enough. To be fair, Jack isn’t sure about a lot of things a lot of the time.

Bittle mutters something in his sleep, not real words, and Jack smiles. There is  **one** thing he’s sure about. And in their bedroom, with Bittle’s fingers twitching because he’s dreaming about jam or jelly or preserves and Jack isn’t really sure what the difference between those things in, the playoffs feel far away. His breath comes easy.

Maybe Bittle will make pancakes.

 

* * *

 

It is not, strictly speaking, Bitty’s fault that he hadn’t realized Sweetie and Kent Parson were the same person. He had always taken such  **fucking**  pains to make sure Bitty never knew what he did for a living, never explained all that traveling, nothing. He hadn’t even talked about hockey like he played it, not really.

He should’ve just  _told_  him. What gave him the idea that showing up to the kegster was a great way to reveal the secret? Was it just that he thought Bitty would think he was full of shit?

He should’ve known better than that, too. Bitty throws the ring across his room, watches with some satisfaction as it bounces off his wall. Stupid fucking Kent Parson and his stupid fucking Stanley Cup Ring.

Bitty swallows against the lump in his throat. 

 


	35. stargazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: For the fic meme: stars or space with Jeff/kent. Please and thank you.

“There,” Jeff pointed. “Cygnus.”

Kent squinted up at the sky. “It looks like a cross to me,” he said.

“Well, yeah, that’s the Northern Cross.” Jeff leaned closer. “But see the other stars on the sides? It makes a swan shape.”

Kent tilted his head, leaning over so he could see it from Jeff’s point of view. His hair smelled like the sweet fruit of Jeff’s sister’s shampoo. “ _Oh_ ,” he said, a moment later, head practically on Jeff’s shoulder, “I see it now. Cool! Tell me another one.”

“The big ‘W’ looking shape over there is Cassiopeia,” Jeff said. “And if you look at the Little Dipper –”

“I can find the dippers by myself, c’mon,” Kent interrupted. “Tell me cool ones. Everybody knows those ones.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Jeff. “I was gonna say Draco, but whatever.”

“Like  _Harry Potter_ ,” Kent said.

“Like a dragon,” said Jeff. “Damn. You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“You love it,” Kent said, still looking up at the sky.

It was true. Jeff didn’t say anything.

 


	36. what's that behind your back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: “what’s that behind your back” bitty/kent

 

Bitty slid his keycard through to open the hotel door, balancing the coffee tray with the bag of bagels in one hand. The lights were on and the shower wasn’t running, which meant Kent was done working out. “Honey?” Bitty shut the door behind himself.

“Eric!” Kent turned around quickly, hands behind his back. “Hey!”

Setting down their breakfast, Bitty laughed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Kent said. “Just – packing.”

Bitty raised a brow. “Whatcha got there, then?” he asked.

“It’s really nothing important,” Kent said, sitting down on the bed.

Bitty grinned. “C’mon,” he said, scooting closer. “You can tell me. You know I’ll still love you, right?” 

Kent laughed. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. 

Pouting, Bitty held out Kent’s coffee.

After letting out a heavy sigh, Kent pulled a ratty, grey stuffed animal out from behind his back. It looked  _awful_ , missing one eye and somewhat discolored on the left side. “Fine!” he wiggled it. “Here, see? Nothing. Just my stupid elephant.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its name is elliot


	37. you what?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: 12. “Woah, hold the fuck up, you did what now?” please?

“– And so, I, um.” Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. It was a little tough to explain what he was doing back at the hotel so early. He was sure Saints had expected him to be out for quite some time. “I just came back early. I didn’t think you’d mind.” 

“Whoa, hold the fuck up –” Saints wheeled around, toothbrush still in his mouth. “You did what, now?”

“I just came back early,” Jeff repeated.

Saints swished water in his mouth and ducked into the bathroom to spit in the sink. “Without a girl,” he said.

“Uh –” Jeff blinked. “Yes.”

Saints tilted his head, regarding Jeff quietly for a few minutes. In all honesty, he was beginning to regret saying he’d room with him on this roadie. Everybody knew goalies were weird, but Saints was just… he could be a bit off-putting. “Why?” he asked.

“Why what?” Jeff sat on the bed, bending to take off his shoes. “Can’t a guy have a night off?”

“I mean, yeah,” Saints said, flipping off the bathroom light. He went to his own bed, flopping down. “But that’s not what this is, is it?”

Jeff rubbed his face with both hands. “Ramón,” he said. “Please. Don’t.”

Crossing his arms behind his head, Saints looked up at the ceiling. “ _De ilusión también se vive_ ,” he said.

 


	38. saints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: “I have feelings and you just hurt them.”

It was just your normal dressing room shit talk – or, at least, Jeff  _thought_  it was until some of the chirping got a little more personal than usual. Jeeves was usually pretty good about knowing exactly what to say to a guy to really push his buttons, but he tried to save that talent for the opposing teams.

Usually.

They’d all had a rough night. In response to some line from the backup goalie about being a shitty d-man, Jeeves was not in the mood to pull his punches. “Oh yeah? Well I’ve seen more ice in my drink than _you_  have all year!” He laughed.

Saints didn’t say anything. After staring for a moment, he threw his blocker down, turning away to face his stall. It was true he hadn’t been in the net for very many games so far that season, there was no denying it.

Jeff and Kent traded a look.

“Guys,” said Kent, glancing at Saints, “c’mon. That’s enough.”

“What?” Jeeves paused, shirt halfway off. “Something I said?”

“Yeah, big surprise,” snapped Saints. “I have feelings and you just hurt them.”

Jeeves stared at him for a moment and then glanced at Kent. “I – hey, I’m sorry, man,” he said, quickly. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you for real, I thought we were just messing around.”

 


	39. stop being childish, parson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: 36. “Poke me once more and see what happens.”

This was the longest flight  _ever_ , Jeff was pretty sure. They were coming off a loss in Vancouver and Kent was absolutely  _insufferable_. Irritated and moping all at the same time, he’d taken the window seat  **and**  the larger half of the granola bar.

Jerk.

At that moment, Kent was poking Jeff’s shoulder, no doubt trying to wake him up from the nap he’d settled into. He’d want to talk about the game – some more – and honestly? Jeff didn’t have the energy.

“Jeff,” Kent whispered.

Why? Why was he like this?  Jeff growled a little and, in response, Kent poked him harder.

“Poke me once more and see what happens,” Jeff mumbled.

“I just wanna  _talk_  to you,” Kent whined.

“I’m not going over the plays with you again right now,” Jeff said, cracking one eye open. 

“But –”

“You need to talk to someone about this game, talk to Jesus or whatever,” Jeff said. “Isn’t that your thing?”

“You want me to  _pray about it_?”

“As long as you’re not praying to me?” Jeff said, pulling his hood up over his head. “ **Yes**.”

 


	40. tabloids and babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: 37 “I’m kind of a big deal.”

 

1\. “Oh my god,” Bitty says, stopping in his tracks. He stares at the rack of magazines.

“What?” Kent peeks out from the aisle he’d started to go down. “What?”

“You’re in the  _National Enquirer_ ,” Bitty says, picking up the magazine. He flips it open, looking for the page with Kent on it.

“Well yeah, babe, I’m kind of a big deal.” Kent’s crooked grin indicates that he’s just joking, and he hasn’t made any effort to come closer to look at the article.

Bitty can’t stop staring once he finds the right page. “They think you’re straight,” he says, after a long moment of silence. The article suggests that Kent came out for media attention, and that he’s actually secretly dating Taylor Swift.

“What?” Now Kent is walking towards him, already laughing. “That’s a new one, even for me. Are you serious?” He reaches over, taking the magazine.

His laughter bubbles out of him after about two seconds of reading. “I’m so buying this,” he says. “Me and T Swift? Big time.” He tosses it into the basket. “I’m hanging that up in my locker. Wait ‘til Jeff sees it, oh man. I’ll have to get a picture of his face.”

Bitty rolls his eyes.

* * *

 

2\. “C’mere, Oliver,” Kent said. He’d gotten dinner on the table, somehow, even though  **all**  of the kids were being, in Jeff’s opinion,  **horrible**  that evening. No wonder Christopher had been so eager to get out. 

Julianna sat down. “I don’t want to eat chicken,” she said.

“We’re having chicken,” said Kent. “File a complaint with your mom in the morning, it was her idea. Did you wash your hands?” He looked around the dining room. “Where’s your brother?”

“I dunno.” Julianna leaned her elbows on the table.

“Elbows off the table, princess,” Kent said, even though he wasn’t looking. Teddy flailed his little fists as Kent settled him into his high chair.

“I’ll get him,” said Jeff, “hang on.” He headed upstairs, opening Oliver’s door. He was bent over his desk, fussing with something that Jeff was… not sure was technically safe for a kid under ten. “Hey, man. C’mon. Dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Oliver said.

“I don’t care,” said Jeff, “you have to eat. C’mon. Wash up.”

“I’m in the middle of an experiment!” Oliver turned around, glaring.

“O—kay,” Jeff said. “Can you experiment more after dinner?”

“It’s for school,” Oliver said. “I gotta bring it for show and tell tomorrow.” He paused, and then grinned. “I’m kind of a big deal.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” said Jeff, “on the streets. Dinner, bud. Now.”

 

 


	41. i know you're in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: “Oh my God. You’re in love with her/him.”

 

Jeff rubbed his face with both hands.

Fuck.

He’d just turned a girl down in front of the guys, which was maybe not the smartest move considering that he  _never_  did that on roadies and it was  _weird_. De los Santos was giving him a measuring look, drinking his Jack and Coke without saying anything. Jeff took a drink of his beer.

“You okay, Swoops?” Jeeves leaned over. “Feelin’ all right? Your blood sugar low or something?”

“I’m fine,” Jeff said, “just tired, you know? Damn.”

“You must be,” said Jeeves. Several of the guys laughed and Jeff laughed with them. 

On the way back to the hotel, De los Santos caught up with Jeff before he got in the Uber, pulling him aside. “Hey, Swoops. Hang on a minute.”

Jeff waved the other guys ahead. “We’ll call another,” he said, already pulling the app up on his phone. Turning back to De los Santos, he raised a brow. “What’s up?”

They ended up in a different bar, tucked away into a corner drinking scotch and soda. “I’m just tired,” Jeff said, again, halfway into their conversation.

“Yeah, I know,” said De los Santos. “Family day probably wore you out, huh?”

Jeff narrowed his eyes. “What d’you mean by that?”

“Oh my God,” De los Santos said. “C’mon, man. You’re in love with him. And I know that Bitty guy is his boyfriend. You wanna talk about it?”

“I –” Jeff tightened his grip on his glass.  _Goddamnit_.

 


	42. Bethany Troy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: Will you write a character study on Bethany from Christopher's pov?

Bethany is, Christopher thinks, the most incredible being on the face of the planet. She is cuddled up with Oliver and they’ve both fallen asleep, tucked up under a blanket on the sofa while the menu of  _Star Wars_  repeats over and over on the TV. Her dark hair is a fluffy, fuzzy bun and she’s wearing his old jersey from Juniors.

She told him she’s pregnant again yesterday. 

They’ve been married a long time, now. Christopher is amazed, sometimes, that she puts up with their life – the hockey, his schedule, all the time out of town. With Julianna and Oliver in school, Bethany stays home while Christopher goes on roadies, now. They talk on the phone but it isn’t the same, and he misses her and the way she makes any bed she sleeps in smell like Love’s Baby Soft, the same perfume she’s worn since high school.

He wonders if their baby will be a boy or a girl. Julianna is very much her mother’s child, strong willed and buoyant beyond belief, glass half full. Both their children have her honey colored eyes and her finely boned hands and, somehow, her optimism.

She makes everything work. She always has – they’d married so, so young and Christopher knew he was lucky to make the money he made, to be able to support their family so that Bethany could stay home with the kids the way she wanted to. She loved volunteering for class trips and going to PTA meetings, but it didn’t make Christopher feel better about the things he missed.

Bethany loves being a mom. Christopher knows that about her, the same way he knows her happiest laugh and the crooked line of her teeth, the same way he knows what she’ll order for breakfast anywhere they go and what movie she’ll put in when the baby is up all night.

She shifts on the sofa when he bends down to kiss her forehead. 

“Love you,” she murmurs, as he lifts Oliver and settles him against his shoulder.

“I love you,” Christopher says, tucking the blanket back up to her chin.

 


	43. 2009? winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: 'you're cold, come here' or putting feet in another's lap

They lost.

They lost and it’s fucking  _freezing_  in Buffalo, and Kent… misses Jack, if he’s honest. It’s fucking stupid, he  _knows_  it’s fucking stupid, because Jack hasn’t picked up his phone in months, not since the draft. They haven’t talked. He doesn’t care. It’s really, really, really obvious that he doesn’t care, but Kent can’t help calling him sometimes, still, just to hear the sound of his voice on the message. He called him tonight, left some rambling voice message about the loss and how the NHL is harder than he’d thought.

It’s so stupid.

He’s rooming with Jeff Troy, though, and Jeff doesn’t care if Kent sits on his bed next to him or has loud nightmares. He’s not Jack, though, doesn’t reach for Kent the way Jack did or lay his head on Kent’s chest to hear his heartbeat. Jeff is tall and funny and thoughtful and kind of mind-numbingly gorgeous, but he doesn’t have soft blue eyes, doesn’t really need Kent, certainly wouldn’t  _want_  him, not like that. And Kent can’t stand the thought of someone else touching him the way Jack did, not yet, because it hurts deep in his chest. It’s cold in Buffalo in more ways than one, and it’s nobody’s fault but Kent’s.

They’re on Jeff’s bed in the hotel room, plane delayed because of the ice, TV set on Nick at Nite even though Jeff is reading. Kent works his feet under the edge of Jeff’s thigh, wedging his toes in until they’re trapped, and Jeff doesn’t even look up from his magazine. Kent wiggles his toes.

A few minutes later, Jeff’s hand curls around Kent’s ankle, thumb brushing over the bone. “You’re cold,” he says, eyes still on his reading. “C’mere.”

It’s probably a bad idea, because hockey guys are physically affectionate and what normal people call cuddling is just another day on the bus to them, and Jeff has no way of knowing that Kent’s thought about what he looks like naked. It’s cold in Buffalo, though, and something in the pit of Kent’s stomach needs this, needs to feel warm, even if it’s only for a moment.

Jeff puts his magazine down when Kent brushes up against his side. “You wanna watch something else?” he asks.

“This is fine,” Kent says. 

It’s fine.


End file.
